Existence
by Wildcard
Summary: Seto doesn't fear what doesn't exist. Yami no Malik intends to change that. Yaoi, dubious consent, and dangershipping.


Existence.

A giggle floated lazily into the office, followed moments later by a smirking Yami no Malik and a mocking call of, "Why Se-to, working again? What a shame. I'd almost think you didn't miss me." The dark spirit was the only one who drawled Seto's name in that particular manner, elongating the syllables to make it sound like a snake's hiss followed by an axe chop.  
  
"You're not real." Seto informed Yami no Malik, without looking up from his laptop. A moment later, the screen was pressed down with a deceptive gentleness, the cinnamon-golden fingers of the other boy wrapping over Seto's slender, paler hands. The same infuriatingly relaxed laughter sounded again as Yami no Malik started to thoughtlessly bend Seto's fingers backwards, now seated on his lap. "Silly Se-to. That is what you always say."  
  
"It's just as true as the first time that I said it." Seto coldly replied, not wincing at the feeling of his fingers being pushed to the breaking point. He refused to look at the Egyptian, instead staring at the dark wooden door from which his tormentor had entered. For that, he heard a finger snap, the sharp crack sounding even over the other's laughter. "But Se-to, if I don't exist, then how did that finger break?"  
  
Changing tactics as that question was unanswerable, Seto instead reasoned flatly, "You are nothing but a part of Malik Ishtar's mind. You cannot have a body of your own separate from him meaning you cannot be here. Hence, you do not exist." For an answer, he received a taunting giggle and dark indigo eyes peered up at him teasingly, half-hidden by lowered eyelids. Tanned fingers deftly undoing buttons, Yami no Malik asked casually, "Does that mean I'm not undressing you?"  
  
A silence, and the sound of heavy cloth hitting the ground with a muffled thud, the metal jingle of belts clashing against each other following. Then a stubborn, single-word reply. "Yes."  
  
"And that you're not scared?" Fingers ghosting over the expanse of skin revealed, pressing against the hollow of Seto's throat and feeling his heartbeat quicken in a way that would never be shown in his words. A curt answer, anger barely-repressed, "I don't fear what doesn't exist."  
  
Laughter sounded yet again, the golden false god sliding off the other's lap to kneel between his legs and smirk up at him. The words that dripped off his teeth were poison-sweet, the quick flash of teeth ghostly white, seeming to almost glisten under the bright light of the office. "If I don't exist, then obviously you won't feel it when I do this..." A hand settled on each thigh, the gold of the bracers cold against Seto's skin, and the psychopath bent his head after flashing the taller boy another eerie smirk.  
  
Once more, silence fell, cold blue eyes staring steadily at the wooden door, lips pressed together in a thin line to stop any sound escaping them. Any sound at all. This wasn't happening. There was nothing for him to feel. There was no reason for to react, because there was nothing happening for him to react to.  
  
...and the sudden, shocked gasp that left his lips was due to him seeing a scratch on the door. Nothing to do with a clever tongue curling itself in such a manner that it tangled Seto's very thoughts.  
  
Again, laughter rang through the room, contaminating the very air as Yami no Malik rose to his feet, now looming over the other boy as he licked his lips, pink tongue seeming to taste the air in a snake-like manner. Wild spikes of dark golden hair covered his eyes, only the perfect cruelty of his smile showing as he guided Seto from the chair to lie over the desk instead, brown head bent to stare at the carpet. Passive. Submissive. All those things that Seto wasn't. Which made sense. This wasn't happening, so this wasn't Seto. Or so he told himself, with every shudder that ran through his body.  
  
This wasn't happening, so this wasn't him.  
  
Afterwards, instead of laughing, Yami no Malik half-purred as he held the other boy close to him, cradling his pretty doll within gold-laden arms. Trailing his fingers languidly over the cooling skin, he licked at the shell of the other's ear before he spoke, "Se-to, do you still maintain that I don't exist?"  
  
Voice empty of all emotion, Seto answered mechanically, "You do not exist. Magic does not exist. Fairy-tales do not come true."  
  
Laughter. Harsh and wild and free from all constraints of sanity. All traces of playfulness disappeared from Yami no Malik's eyes, the purple of them starting to burn like the ashes of a phoenix pyre as he tightened his grip on Seto, and cooed as a reply, "Fairy-tales don't come true. But nightmares do."  
  
A hard kiss pressed upon bruised skin, "Nightmares live."  
  
A broken finger twisted sadistically, "Nightmares kill."  
  
A sudden, harsh bite at a soft shoulder, "Nightmares hate."  
  
A shockingly-soft whisper, cruel in its deception, "Nightmares love."  
  
A final, low, victorious laugh."Nightmares exist. And I am your nightmare."

Fin


End file.
